M Quest: a Kim & Ron Growing Up Story
by Lady Rhetorica
Summary: Kim wants to find out everyone's thoughts on the “M” word, including Ron's. Drakken wants to find secret takeovertheworld research. Both quests collide in sunny California when Kim meets a retired pop hero from the 60s. It's a retro romp on the beach.
1. Saturday Morning

M QUEST

CHAPTER ONE

"SATURDAY MORNING"

"So tell me again, Doctor D, why are we here," Shego asked, her face hidden behind a magazine.

"Because, Shego, why spend months designing some new fangled gadget to take over the world…"

"I've been asking that question now for the past couple of years."

"…when someone else has already done it for you?"

"Yeah, right. After seeing the results of your usual wacked out schemes, I can see why that's a good idea. Except for one thing. The people you usually steal from…"

"Outsourcing, Shego, outsourcing. We've already been over this."

"…_outsourcing_ from, are even more wacked out than you. Do you see a pattern here, Doctor D? Let's see, I've been with you for six years now, and you've managed to conquer, what? My sanity? Which brings me back to my first question, why are we _here_?"

Dr. Drakken looked up from the piles of old newspapers, science books, and microfiche scattered about the table in front of him. "As a matter of fact, Shego, you're correct. What I should have been looking for are world-dominating ideas from the respected science community."

"Like the Princess's daddy-o? Smart move, antagonizing Kimberly more than usual."

"Precisely, Shego," said Drakken, ignoring her sarcasm. "We need to look for ideas that have been ignored in the past by cowards too afraid to push the scientific frontiers, ideas that no one in the present bothers to read but which are accessible to anybody with a valid I.D."

"Ah, so that's why I'm spending my day off thumbing through back copies of _La Femme_ swimsuit issues while you pore through chemistry abstracts at the Middleton Public Library."

"Yes, plus I owe a two dollar fine on an overdue video."

"Let me see that—_Lost in Space: Season One_. Oh, I get it. You're going to kidnap the Possible family on a space rocket so you can annoy them to death."

"Very funny. Next to Snowman Hank, Dr. Zachary Smith was my TV hero, if you must know. Moreover, I have, indeed, found something. Look at this, a 1974 reference to a robotic brain manipulator patented by a Dr. Benton Quest. This obituary indicates he is now deceased, but I have no doubt his only son must have Dr. Quest's old notes. We only have to recreate his research, tweak it with some 21st century technology, and the world… Stop rolling your eyes in public places, Shego; it's not very polite. As I was saying, we first need to find a certain Jonny Quest who happens to live in Newport Beach, California. Up for a little surf and sun mission?"

"That's the smartest thing you've suggested all day, Doctor D."

* * *

At that particular moment, Kim Possible had her own important mission to complete, one she intended to fulfill in her pragmatic, single-minded way as she drove to the Stoppable's house so she could take her Best Friend Boy Friend, Ron Stoppable, to brunch when he returned home from Middleton's synagogue. 

Several weeks ago, a certain incident happened. She didn't think about it too much at the time because of the urgency of their situation, but it was something she put on her mental backburner when the appropriate time came to deal. Her brothers had rebuilt her father's old 62 Sloth, and they were chasing Motor Ed and Shego down the streets and highways of Middleton. He had stolen Dr. Possible's experimental Kepler rocket booster and attached it to his Trans-Am. If the booster reached maximum velocity, the energy output would level the city of Middleton. Kim leaped onto Motor Ed's car and successfully deactivated the Kepler. No big.

What bothered her about that incident was the expression on Ron's face when their tech guru, Wade Load, unveiled a pair of gold electromagnetic rings that would allow her to crawl on the metallic surface of Motor Ed's Trans-Am. When the cover of the rings opened, Rufus began humming the opening measures of Wagner's _Bridal March_. Like many young women, Kim had imagined what it would be like stepping down the aisle of a church in an elegant white wedding gown, escorted by her father, to the strains of a pipe organ playing "dum dumta dum, dum dumta dum," not to the squeaks of a certain mischievous naked mole rat. She could not get Rufus's version out of her head, nor could she forget the look—of fright? embarrassment? mortification?—that appeared on Ron's face. He had this silly grin that quickly disappeared when he thought he saw the look—of anger? contempt? disgust?—that appeared on Kim's face. It was actually none of those particular emotions affecting Kim at the time, but rather a more exasperated _get your head in the game, Ron_ feeling, like this was not the time or place to be discussing marriage plans when you're careening through the streets of Middleton at close to the speed of sound and trying to prevent an explosion that would eliminate Middleton from future Triple A road maps.

Graduation was approaching in June, and they had started making college plans. She thought about studying abroad, while Ron hoped to get into some nearby state college on the strength of his newfound football prowess. Did they have a future together? It was time to discuss the M Word, and nothing would deter Kim from her mission.

They had talked about such things as marriage in theoretical ways before they were a _couple_ couple. During one of their games of _Life_, Kim had asked Ron if he'd like to have children (after he landed on "you just had a boy; put a blue peg in your car and collect $2000 from each player"). Ron panicked, similar to how he felt when parachuting at night over a shark-infested lagoon. "KP, I'm only 15."

"Not right _now_, Ron." _You're such a_ _boy_, she thought as she threw a pillow at him. "Someday, when we are older, like adults." She wasn't necessarily thinking that their future children would be each other's.

"Oh. Sure, I suppose. But first, out will pop a little Petunia Penelope Possible, then maybe there'll be a Studley Startsky Stoppable," at which point they started an impromptu contest to see who could come up with the worst alliterative baby name for the other's future progeny.

But now things were different. Her best friend had become her boyfriend, and it was time for boyfriend to spill. What exactly _were_ his intentions? Did he even _have_ any intentions?

Kim started entertaining the idea of being a Mrs. Kimberly Stoppable when a moodulator device accidentally attached itself to her neck and manipulated the focus and intensity of her emotions. She had come up with 469 different font styles, sizes, and color arrangements to spell "Mrs. Kimberly Anne Stoppable-Possible," prioritized on an Excel spreadsheet, when her mother finally told her to go to bed. Then several weeks later there was that magical moment during the Diablo mission when Ron saved her and they sealed their true feelings for each other with a kiss at the Prom dance.

A few months after the prom, she broached the subject of the M Word with her father and mother as her relationship with Ron began to grow and change beyond just "best friends" that summer. She knocked on the door of Dr. James Possible's study. "Dad, can we talk about something?"

"Sure, Kimmie Cub, what's on your mind?"

"It's about the M Word."

"Whoa, you're a bit young for that, don't you think? And who did you have in mind?"

"Dad! I'll be 18 by next summer. As for 'who,' who do you think," she scowled. She then noticed the broadening grin on Dr. Possible's face. "Good one, Dad. I see where the tweebs get their tease genes. It's about Ron."

"What about Ronald? He hasn't asked…"

"No, no, nothing like that, yet. I just wanted to know, you know, just in case he _did_ bring up the M Word, someday, what would you think? About Ron, I mean."

Dr. Possible looked at his daughter; for a micro-second he felt his chest tighten and his eyes mist, then he controlled his emotions like a world-class engineer. "Kimberly, this may surprise you, but your mother and I have been having this conversation about you and Ronald for the past 10 years. He's still a bit—make that _a lot_—rough around the edges. But if I had anything against him, you'd know before now. I was a bit of a high school dork myself, and I certainly never experienced the intensity of situations you and Ronald have faced together. But after 25 years of polishing at the hands of your mother, I've become the fine, ruggedly handsome man you see today." Kim snorted. "Kim," and the eyes started misting again—_control, Jim, control_—"I trust you, and by now you should know how I really feel about Ron."

"Thanks, Dad." She gave her dad a fierce hug around his neck.

"You betcha, Kimmie Cub." _You've still got it, Jimbo_.

A week later she had a similar conversation with her mother as Dr. Anne Possible helped Kim put away the laundry in her room. "…Kim, in a way, you've been treating Ron like he was your husband already for a long time," Anne had told her. "Think about how you've always referred to him for years as _My Ron_, as if 'My Ron' were some title or thing you owned, and not a real person."

Kim hadn't expected that. "But Mom, I do respect Ron as a person, more than anyone else."

"I know you do, dear. But when you know someone so closely for such a long time, it's very easy to start taking that relationship for granted because you assume it will always be there. Your father and I still work hard to not treat each other that way. Think about how Ron felt when you were crushing on that Eric thing. It's to your credit that you believed in Ron when he suspected something was wrong. But what pained me as much as seeing the hurt in Ron's eyes was seeing _you_ assume that he'd still be there for you as your best friend." Kim sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the window, biting her lips.

The surgeon Anne Possible continued to make incisions into her daughter's emotional psyche. "Think about your own possessiveness whenever a girl expressed any interest in him. I'm sure there are other young women who would have liked to date someone like Ron, but backed off when they sensed you _jelling_." Kim's eyes started tearing and her nose running.

"All I ask is that you think about what I've said if you are really serious about your relationship going beyond just a high school boyfriend-girlfriend thing. You need to start thinking of him as his own person besides _My__Ron_." At that point Kim fell back on her bed, covered her face with her pandaroo, and started sobbing in heaves. This was _so_ not the conversation she had been expecting. "Honey, I don't mean to make you cry. I am so happy for you both. If and when Ron asks the M question, you'll have our blessing."

"Thanks, Mom. What about Ron?"

"Oh, I think Ron is still getting used to the idea that his new girl friend happens to be the prettiest, smartest, most talented young woman in Middleton. Give him time. When he starts thinking about the M Word, you'll figure out what you need to say and do. After all, we're Possible women: we know what's best for our men," said Anne Possible with a wink and a grin.

Kim gave her a hug. "You rock, Mom."

That conversation took place several months ago, and it was now quite apparent Ron _had_ started thinking about the M Word. It was time for Mission mode. Plan: treat him to the all-you-can-eat pancake buffet at _Waffles R Us_, take a stroll to the lake, feed some ducks, and then lie down on a blanket where we can have a private conversation away from any tweebs or Bonnies. Then if Ron says what he's supposed to say, a little post conversation making-out would not be out of the question.

She rang the Stoppable's doorbell just a few minutes after they had arrived home from Temple Shalom. Mr. Stoppable was very pleased with his son's evolving relationship with Kim and directed her to Ron's room upstairs where he was changing out of his dress clothes. She knocked on his door before walking in. "Hey Ron."

"Ack, KP. Gimme a second, will ya?" He had just finished hanging his slacks and shirt in his closet. He pulled his familiar hockey jersey over his head and zipped up some very worn cargo pants that had barely survived one mission too many. They were still OK for weekend wear at home, but its days of heroic cover duties were over. Kim was amused at Ron's modesty; she thought it was cute, even though their missions sometimes required a detached look at each other in their mission skivvies.

She brought a bag of breakfast nachos as a bribe to Rufus so she could have Ron to herself this afternoon. "How's my wittle naked mole wat cutie pie doing today," she asked. Cooing baby talk to Rufus, where did _that_ come from, she wondered. The implications caught her off guard. Rufus didn't mind; he was quite pleased with Kim's attentions and even more pleased with the bag of nacho snacks. "OK. Yum, yum," he squeaked, and then disappeared into the Bueno Nacho bag.

Kim and Ron lay next to each other, sharing a red and white checkerboard quilt on a gentle slope overlooking the small lake in the Middleton City Park, holding hands on a comfortably warm, cloudy afternoon. She wore a Club Banana lime-green lace cami and faded pink Capri pants. Ron let out a contented post-pancake belch. Kim rolled her eyes. "What's the sitch, KP? I may have gotten only a 71 on Barkin's last history quiz, but I'm not stupid. I know when I'm being set up." He rolled to his side, his head now propped on his palm. He started slowly tracing his fingers up and down Kim's arm from her shoulder to the inside bend of her elbow.

That's _so_ not fair, Kim thought. Now you're _really_ being the distraction. We'll have to discuss the _S_ word soon after today's conversation. "A few weeks ago when we stopped Motor Ed and Shego from stealing my Dad's Kepler rocket booster, do you remember those electromagnetic rings?"

"Yeah, you were awesome, KP."

"Thanks. Do you remember what you were thinking when you first saw the rings, when Rufus started humming 'dah dah tadum, dah dah tadum?'"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. Sorry about that Kim. I guess I got a little nervous, and then you looked really mad or something, so…" He rolled onto his back again and stopped touching her arm.

_Don't stop!_ She sighed. "Why do you think I would be angry, Ron? We were chasing a maniac car, and especially with the tweebs in the back seat, so not the right time or place for intimate boyfriend-girlfriend chats. But I've been thinking about rings, a lot, lately. And I wanted to know what you might be thinking, when we could talk about, you know, the M Word, in the right time and place."

"Well, how about next…ouch." He felt a sharp finger jab in the ribs. "Oh, you mean _here_…" _You are such a boy_, thought Kim. He folded his hands together across his stomach, started twiddling his thumbs. Kim waited, trying her best to be patient for the random thoughts of her boyfriend to interconnect and address the topic at hand.

After a minute or two of staring at the clouds, he said, "Gee, I dunno, Kim. I mean, I guess I've thought about maybe us, you know, being together that way. The micro-second about the rings when we chased Motor Ed and Shego—it was kinda nice, thinking of you and me, forever. But there are so many things to think about. You can go to college anywhere you want; I'm still not sure I want to. I like my little sister, and my mom and dad may need me around to help them out with Hannah."

"OK," said Kim. "I think I know what you mean."

"My family is Jewish. You know I've been reading and studying with Rabbi Katz? That's really important to me."

"Yes, I know, and I'm so proud of you. For a guy who barely passed Spanish, now you're practically an expert in Hebrew and Japanese." She smiled at him, but a tiny doubt began to grow, and she started to fear where Ron's conversation was heading. Life would be much easier if everyone would just give her a simple answer. Mom & Dad: yes, Kim, Ron's a great guy; when he asks the M question, say 'yes'. Ron: I love you, Kim, will you, uh, do the M Word, with me? Yes, Ron. Whoa, rewind to previous thoughts. The Y word: where did _that_ come from? The sudden intensity of her _wanting_ him surprised her.

"You know I would never ask or expect you to convert, and vice versa, right? We respect each other too much." He paused.

_Yes, but_…Kim's eyes watered and her nose started running.

"Kim, I want what's best for you, but I don't know if what's best for you and me is the same as what's best for _us_."

"So are you saying you don't want to get married to me?"

"No, Kim." Then as he saw her eyes grow in shock, "I mean, no, that's not what I'm saying." He sat up, then pulled her up as well, holding her shoulders between his hands. She looked away. _Was my mother still right, that I take him for granted? Why am I feeling so rejected? Is it because I just assumed he'd always be available if I wanted him, but never thought about what Ron might want?_

He gently turned her face so she was looking straight at him, their eyes inches away.

"What I'm saying Kim is this: you are the most important person in the world to me. When we go on our missions, my greatest fear is somehow losing you. I know, I'm the one who has the greatest chance of becoming toast, but since we've started dating, the thought of something happening to you, well, you know, it tears me up sometimes. As for marriage, I don't know, but that's because I'm a guy. I don't think much further in the future than what poison the school cafeteria's serving on Monday." She grinned a little.

"I'm saying that I can't imagine not being around you for the rest of my life. You seem to have been thinking about the M Word for a while now, and I want to know what's clicking behind those big green eyes. I'm saying that there are some hard questions for us to figure out, but we don't have to figure them out today." Kim sighed.

"Besides, my head hurts from having to think so hard on the weekend, and it's not even for Barkin's homework assignment. I could use a snackage break."

"Sorry, I brought stuff for only Rufus."

"Well, I was thinking more of some natural Kim snacks."

"Do you know how much I love you right now, Ron Stoppable?" Kim kissed him ferociously. _Yum yum_! At that moment, the communicator beeped.

Dee-Dee-DE-Deet. _Grrr_. "What's the sitch, Wade?"

"Hi Kim. Something's up with your favorite blue-green duo. Thought you'd be interested."

"OK." _Another sigh_. She looked at Ron, who gave her a plaintive _it's what we_ _do_ shrug. "Go ahead."

"Ever heard of a guy named Jonny Quest? He's this rich bohemian guy in his 50's, lives in a beach house, mostly surfs. But get this, when he was a kid, he used to travel all over the world with his best friend, getting into one adventure after another against some really wacked out bad dudes. He wore a black turtleneck all the time, his father was one of the world's most brilliant scientists, and he had this funny little pet that went with him everywhere."

"Yeah, so your point is?"

"I thought it might remind you of…never mind. Anyway, seems Dr. Drakken and Shego think that this Mr. Quest guy is hiding some of his father's old research papers on bio-robotic brain manipulation."

"Let's pretend Rufus was here and wanted an explanation," said Ron.

"Near as I can tell, it was pretty cool, advanced stuff. Wonder if your mom knows anything about Dr. Quest, Kim. Combine Dr. Possible's nano-robotics research with Dr. Bortel's moodulator, and you get the general idea. You could control someone completely with this stuff if it worked."

"OK, we're on it. Where to?"

"Los Angeles. I already have a C-130 waiting to transport you to LAX. Also, since you'll be in LA and dealing with you know who, it can't hurt to have the Sloth with you."

"I think you should also get these guys to take Kim's badical wheels," said Ron. "KP's gonna need something to cruise the beach boo-lay-vards with her Ron Dude."

"Riiight. I'll see what I can do, Ron."


	2. Saturday Evening

CHAPTER TWO

"SATURDAY EVENING"

"Oh man, Kim, is this the coolest place or what?" Ron, who'd traveled from the Amazon rain forest to the Swiss Alps, was suddenly eyeing Southern California like a sugar deprived 10 year old in a candy store. "Disneyland, Dodger Stadium, In and Out Burgers, the gir…ouch!" Another semi-lethal finger-fu jab in the ribs. "The girrr—illa exhibit at the LA Zoo."

"So not the drama, mouse ear boy. Apart from a few roller coaster rides and _girrrillas_, what's LA got that Middleton hasn't got? And need I remind you of the one thing Middleton has that this place doesn't?"

"Hmmm, let's see. Lethal blizzards? Mr. Barkin? Future black hole exile? Oh, I know. The most bondiggity cheerleader best friend-girl friend in the known universe. You're right. Middleton wins, hands down."

"Nice save, BFBF. Now let's see if we can find this Mr. Quest before Drakken and Shego show up. Wade, can you give us a lock on his location?"

"Stay on the Pacific Coast Highway, go past Brookhurst about a mile and a half. You'll see a yellow stucco house facing the beach with a black '67 Jaguar convertible parked in front."

"Got it. Rocking again, Wade." A few minutes later, Kim parked the Sloth next to the black Jaguar. Even though the Sloth could easily go from a standstill to 100 mph in a few seconds, for the time being its nomenclature seemed fitting next to its cousin.

Kim rang the doorbell. A somewhat tall, thin but muscular man opened the door. He had a tan even Bonnie would envy, and a mop of slightly thinning sun-bleached hair. He was barefoot, wore a black tank top and a pair of military green cargo shorts. "Sorry, kids. I already subscribe to enough magazines to stock a Barnes & Noble."

"Mr. Quest?"

"Yes. Do I know you?"

"My name's Kim Possible, and this is my, um, Ron Stoppable. We're here to save you."

Quest frowned. "You've got your religion, I've got mine. Now leave…"

"No, I mean, you don't understand, Mr. Quest. I, we, go around the world protecting people from mad scientists, and there's this guy with a blue face named Dr. Drakken who's coming after you and…." Kim suddenly realized that outside the world of Middleton where people were used to her odd heroics, she sounded ridiculous to this man who seemed rather bemused and quite capable of taking care of himself. To her surprise, he invited Kim and Ron inside. The house had a Spartan, retro look to it. She and Ron sat down on a low-slung white couch with metallic legs behind a long, dark teak wood coffee table. What appeared to be an original Jackson Pollock painting hung behind the couch. There was no television or even phone in the room, only a bookshelf with a set of _Encyclopaedia Britannica_ and two small portraits, one of a distinguished gentleman with a rust colored beard and the other of a little white bulldog.

"Can I get something for you to drink? And then I want to know exactly who you two are, and what this is all about."

"Coffee for me, please and thank you, and a diet Pepsi for my friend, Ron." Kim gave Quest the brief Team Possible History for Dummies version of her saving the world from wacked out villains such as Dr. Drakken, bringing him up to date on Drakken's intent to steal Dr. Benton Quest's robotic brain research. He surprised her a second time when he both took her seriously yet didn't seem overly concerned or impressed.

He laughed. "Been there, done that, kid. I was saving the world with my father when your parents were still watching Yogi Bear cartoons." Kim and Ron looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders. _Yogi who_?

Not one to back down from a challenge, Kim said, "Well, it doesn't look like you've got much to show for it now. Surfboarding in hippie paradise, bumming off comic book royalties…"

"Listen, kid," (_grrr, if he calls me _kid_ one more time_…), "twenty years of getting chased, shot at, tortured, harassed, with no home except a jet plane and my father's research laboratory—that kind of life gets old after awhile. Besides, even if this Drakken guy shows up, he won't find anything. My father's robotic brain research was destroyed years ago, at his own request."

"Why?" Kim was stunned.

"Years ago, scientists had little understanding of diseases like Alzheimer's. My friend, guardian, and mentor, a guy named Race Bannon, started suffering from severe dementia and memory loss. My father, Dr. Quest, was trying to invent something to help Race Bannon and others like him. But then he was approached by some government agency, Global Justice, I think. Global justice, what a laugh." He did not look amused, however. "They wanted to know if my father's work could be used for 'intelligence' work, counter-espionage, that sort of thing. After a few odd break-ins into his laboratory, Dr. Quest realized that the potential harm from his robotic brain project far outweighed the good. So he asked me to help him destroy all his notes and experiments. He apologized over and over to Race. I think it finally broke my father. At first I was furious at him, but now—it took a lot of guts to do what he did. I admire him a lot more than whichever idiot let this Drakken character steal the technology behind that Diablo mess." Kim squirmed a bit.

"Mr. Quest…"

"Stop calling me 'Mr. Quest.' Name's Jonny."

"OK, if you stop calling me 'kid.' My friends call me Kim."

"Fair enough…Kim."

"Mr., I mean, Jonny, Ron and I probably can appreciate your past better than most people. And I'm sure you can handle yourself fine against Drakken. But his sidekick, Shego, believe me, she is front-page bad news. I would feel a lot better if you'd let us at least stake out your place for a day or two."

"What, stay outside? Nonsense. I have a couple of spare guest bedrooms upstairs for when my brother Hadji and his family visit. I'll be out for several hours. Make yourself at home; help yourself to anything you find in the kitchen. One other thing, as much as I admire black turtlenecks, this _is_ Southern California. I assume you brought other, more appropriate duds. If not, there are plenty of shops around here for wardrobe downsizing." He picked up a surfboard off his back porch and headed towards the beach.

* * *

"So whaddya think of this guy, KP?" 

"Nice enough, weird, but kind of full of himself. He's right about one thing, though…" She contacted Wade with her communicator. "Wade, the latest on Drakken and Shego?"

"Oh, you'll love this, Kim. I have a satellite fix on their rent-a-car. Their on-board map finder is getting them hopelessly lost—heh, heh, heh." Wade took a long slurp of grape soda. "They should be pulling into a sleazy motel in Long Beach around midnight. I think you can expect them in the morning, but for the time being, you and Ron can relax."

"Thanks, Wade. You're cute when you gloat." Wade turned a shade of maroon and signed off.

Kim and Ron stored their mission gear into the guest bedrooms. She changed into a jade one-piece swimsuit with a black linen skirt, Ron into a pair of red cargo swim shorts and a simple, white cotton t-shirt. He watched her as she came downstairs and shook his head in amazement.

"What? What's wrong," she asked, twisting around to see if a loose thread hung from her skirt. "Gosh, I'm so pale, I look like a red-headed fish filet."

"Just what I was thinking, KP," Ron said as he walked around her, sizing her up and down like a chef at a fish market. "I think you need a little Ron marinade to soften you up." He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and started kissing her neck.

"Not _now_, lover boy, we're still in mission mode, even if just on yellow alert. Let's do an inside and outside perimeter check." The rest of the house looked similar to the main living room, with wood and stone floors and a Frank Lloyd Wrightish feel to it. The house curiously lacked modern, electronic gadgets. A small black and white TV sat on the counter in the kitchen, which sparkled in stainless steel. In a sunken den area they found a turntable and an extensive collection of vinyl jazz albums. On the turntable was side one of _Provocative Percussion_ by Enoch Light and the Light Brigade. "Never heard of it," said Ron, "let's try it." After a few seconds of pops and crackles, they heard syncopated bongos and a xylophone crooning "I'm in the Mood for Love." "This stuff is too cheesy even for Rufus. I was expecting at least the Beach Boys."

Kim just smiled and thumped the beat with her fingers on her knees. It was certainly different from their usual cheerleader music; it _was_ kinda corny…and _very_ romantic. "Let's dance," she said as she pulled Ron out of his chair with a sultry look. She tossed her hair and started her best-guess approximate Tango.

The big band strains of "Whatever Lola Wants" started next. "So whatever Kimberly wants," said Ron, "the Rondo is here to provide." He started wiggling his shoulders and hips to the rhythm, snapping his fingers, as he performed a fair Dirty Dancing imitation around her; she responded in kind. Forty minutes later, they both collapsed on the floor, laughing and a bit over-heated, though not from just the dancing. "I think the inside perimeter of the den is safe now," said Ron.

"Think so, Rumba Boy? Let's check the outside."

"I'm starved, KP. I need a protein fix."

"Well, in the interest of your health maintenance, I think we can extend our outside perimeter to one of the restaurants along the pier. Ruby's Diner sound sufficiently bondiggity?"

An hour or so later, sustenance level back to safe zone, a contented Kim Possible did a very quick and cursory visual check for potential signs of wacked scientists, her arms and fingers entwined with those of her equally contented boyfriend as they walked down the beach, the sun setting over the gold and scarlet waves breaking along the sand. This certainly wasn't turning into their typical mission, at least not yet. If Drakken and Shego showed up at that moment, she couldn't decide whether she'd be so angry that she'd turn them into gull feed, or she'd so not care that she'd give them a hand drawn map of the Quest house, just so they'd go away and leave her and Ron alone.

The air started to turn cool. They lay back on a couple of beach blankets they found in Quest's house, facing the evening surf. "Kim?"

"Mmm."

"You know our conversation, earlier today?"

"Mmm." _Earlier today_ seemed like eons ago.

"Yes, that's what I want to ask you about, the Mmm Word."

Kim replayed some of the surprises that she hadn't expected, her mother's warning against taking Ron for granted, the baby talk to Rufus. She admitted to herself that she had sometimes acted like a brain-dead wimp when she met some hottie in the pre-_Out There In Here_ days. But deep inside, she was still the daughter of two rational, sensible scientists. The more she thought about it, that pragmatic approach to life governed her emotions and actions on a basic, even subconscious level.

"Have I ever told you The Kim Kiss Rule, Ron?"

"Uh, no, KP. Do tell." He started worrying whether he'd broken Kim's Kiss Rule. She certainly hadn't indicated any lip or tongue violations so far.

"When I started getting interested in boys, I made up a rule from the very beginning about the stuff that goes with being interested in boys. I know there are guys at Middleton High—and a few girls like Bonnie—who think I'm a prude. But I'm not, really. I just decided that I'd never kiss some guy who was not going to maintain or improve the Possible genetic line."

"You kissed Josh Mankey." _You really know how to kill the moment, Rondo. Ten minutes ago, I'm ready to elope, and now I'm having esophagus spasms over _Monkey_ boy, darn him_.

"News flash, Ron. He kissed me, not the other way around. I didn't mind it—the novelty was kinda nice, I admit, but…look at me, Ron… I did _not_ initiate any Mankey snogging. I never have, with him or with any boy—or synthodrone. Except YOU."

"What about the moodulator, and then we broke up…"

"_I_ kissed _you_, then _you_ broke up with _me_, remember? Maybe things were a little premature, but my Kiss Rule natural instincts were correct, even if we didn't know it at the time. And since then, I'll have to check my diary for the precise number of Kim-on-Ron smackings, but there's been a sufficient number for you to know…"

"I'm gene worthy? Wow."

"Oh, you are definitely gene worthy, Ron Stoppable. That doesn't mean I necessarily would want to marry you."

Ron felt his gut roller-coastering. "So now you're saying you don't want to do the M word with me?"_ I'm so confused_.

Kim looked at Ron, sensed his need for a little gene-worthiness reassurance. She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss. She lay her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. "No, that's not what I'm saying, Ron. It's just that, some women have urges to maintain the species. I recognized that urge around Rufus recently…"

"Ewww, you want little naked mole rat babies? Ouch!" Man, a third bruised rib in the last 24 hours.

"…and when I see you around little Hannah. Like you said, Ron, there are other things we need to talk about, but it's an important starting point for me, to know I can see you as a father someday. And I'm pretty sure you feel the same about me, the mom thing, right? That's a rhetorical _right_, Ron. Just nod your head." _Good boy_. "I've been thinking about something else you said, that what's best for you or for me may not be the same as what's best for _us_. I want to do it all, Ron: go to college, have a career, be a wife, a mom, save the world. I want everything that's best for me. But I started thinking about all the selfless things you've done for me. You have literally saved my life, and sometimes I never even thanked you. Thank you, Ron." She gave him a little more gene reassurance, lip-wise.

"Maybe what might be best for me—is me sacrificing for what's best for you. I don't know what that means yet, Ron. But whatever it is, trust me, it won't be settling for something less. OK? Maybe what can be best for _us_ will be far better than what's best for just you or me. Understand?"

"I think so, KP."

"Just for the record, if you proposed to me right at this moment, I'd break the rest of your ribs. But later, when we get a chance to talk about other important things, I want you to know now, I can't imagine not being with you for the rest of my life."

Ron sighed, held her close for a few minutes without saying anything. "I think I saw some ice cream in the fridge. You wear out my poor brain, KP. Ready for a snackage break?"

"It's about time you finally asked… And later I'll have that ice cream, too, please and thank you."

_Booyah_!

* * *

Around midnight, Jonny Quest unlocked his front door. He noted a couple of clean but wet bowls and spoons in the kitchen sink and a half empty quart of butter pecan ice cream in the refrigerator. He quietly walked upstairs, saw the two teens sacked out in both bedrooms. _Good kids_. He walked downstairs, unlocked and opened what appeared to be the door to a storage closet. He pressed his palm against an electronic palm lock; the back wall slid away, revealing an elevator down to a basement study, one that would look quite familiar to someone like Wade Load. 

"Good evening, Mr. Quest. I trust your day was a productive one."

"Very much so. And how were our two charges, today?"

"Well behaved. They seem to have enjoyed your jazz music, as you said they would. They appear to be very close to each other."

"Good. I've been reading up on Ms. Possible and Mr. Stoppable, quite a remarkable pair. I was a bit harsh with them today. In any case, Dr. Drakken and Shego have been frazzled by ten hours of Los Angeles traffic jams, and now they're getting a taste of the interesting nightlife at a Long Beach motel. This Mr. Load would give you a run for your money. I think they will probably be here around 8:30 tomorrow morning. Kim is correct; Ms. Shego can be a handful, and I'd hate to see her blast my jazz collection into plastic confetti. We'll have a pleasant reception waiting for them?"

"Everything has been taken care of, as you requested."

"That's fine. I'm off to bed. Good night, Robby."

"Good night, Mr. Quest."


	3. Sunday Morning

CHAPTER THREE

"SUNDAY MORNING"

"Ah, good morning. Sleep well? Come, sit down and eat something. I see you're expecting a busy day."

Kim and Ron walked into the kitchen, wearing their mission clothes and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Quest was busy chopping kiwis. At the table were five place settings. In the center of the table were two serving platters, one piled high with slices of pineapple, strawberries, and bananas, the other with a variety of blueberry and bran muffins. At two place settings were large paper cups with Starbucks logos. He pulled a chair out for Kim. "Why don't you sit here?" He poured her a cup of black coffee. He handed Ron a glass of ice and a can of diet Pepsi.

"Thanks, Jonny," said Kim. "You're expecting company this morning? I didn't mean for us to impose like this." Quest's attitude seemed more cheerful this morning. She didn't object to the change, but her weirder alert began to go off.

"Yeah, thanks, man," said Ron around a huge muffin he had stuffed in his mouth. After he swallowed, he asked, "if you don't mind, what do you do around here all day, besides surf? I mean, there's no video or c.d. player, no cable, no game cube, no Internet set up…"

"In answer to Kim's question, I expect a couple of old friends of yours to show up any moment now. As for Ron's question…I still receive a nice royalty income from my father's inventions, sufficient enough for me to live here without my cluttering up the freeways. Dad sent me to Stanford, where I double majored in biochemistry and oriental languages. I then earned a graduate degree in biotechnology and wrote two books on medieval Japanese poetry. I taught at a private high school for a few years until I realized I didn't have the patience to entertain a bunch of spoiled kids more interested in buying a diploma than learning about their universe, so I quit. Now, when I'm not being a beach bum," he aimed a wry grin at Kim, who choked on her coffee and turned a slight shade of pink, "I teach Tae Kwon Do to inner city kids, do some occasional manuscript translating for the Huntington Library, among other things. The rest of the time, I surf, sail my boat, the _Bandit II_, and write family memoirs or Zen poetry. I manage to keep busy."

Kim heard a noise in the hallway, and suddenly leaped out her chair into her classic kung-fu stance. Ron started sputtering diet Pepsi over his muffin. Quest patted him on the back, looked up…

* * *

"No, I'm driving today, Drakken. I can't believe you; what is it with men and directions? We're somehow stuck in a traffic jam in El Segundo heading east towards Riverside, the sun's behind us, but NOOO, the brilliant Dr. Drakken insists we're just a few miles from the Hyatt Embassy in Corona Del Mar because the onboard map computer says so." 

"Now Shego, it wasn't all that bad. We did get to a hotel near the coast…"

"Yeah, the Sleazeball Suites. The fat guy at the desk was stuffing his face with pork rinds, watching some porn movie, and he wants to know how many hours we'll be staying. _Hours_?" _Grrr_. "Then as I'm walking to my room, some guy drives by and says, 'hey, green jeans, how much?' Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?" Her eyes and hands started glowing.

"Just a simple misunderstanding, Shego. You didn't have to melt the owner's TV and pull his chip bag over his face. And I'm pretty sure that man's liability insurance won't cover his Lincoln being drawn and quartered by green plasma blasts."

"And the room! You know what was crawling on the bed? Not bedbugs. Crabs! Bedcrabs! There were barnacle-like things in the bathtub."

"I'm sure they're there to help exfoliate your skin pores. Just think happy thoughts. In a few more hours we'll have Quest's robotic brain research."

"Happy thoughts? Happy thoughts! I'm about this far," she shoved her thumb and forefinger in front of Drakken's face, "from making Kimmie's life a lot easier by ridding the universe of one blue, wacked scientist wannabe."

"Remember, surf and sun. Surf and sun."

"There better be lots more surf and lots more sun. You owe me major league big time." She continued to rant for the next half hour. Drakken wished he had brought his molecular reducer ray with him so he could shrink into the crack of his passenger seat.

They passed a Newport Beach city limit sign. A few minutes later, Drakken said, "there it is, Shego. Pull in front of that house with the black Jaguar and that lilac thing on wheels."

Shego parked. "Wait a second, I've seen that bubblegum machine before. It's Kim Possible and her doofus boyfriend. Argh. How much worse can this get?"

"I just don't understand how she knows…"

"She…always…knows, Drakken," Shego growled. "I'm beginning to think you have her email on your villain web-blog announcement list."

"Well, not anymore, that was just an accident. Besides, look, the front door is open, we didn't have time for breakfast, and I smell some fresh hot cocoa-moo. You can handle her and the what's-his-name sidekick, and I'll take care of Quest." They stepped into the house and followed the sounds and smells leading them to the kitchen.

"Welcome, Dr. Drakken. I've been expecting you. Please sit down. I have a large cup of hot cocoa for you, heavy on the whipped cream, I hope. And the ever-lovely Ms. Go," he pulled out a chair next to Dr. Drakken, "I understand you had a rough night of it. Here's a mango and crème frappuccino—I hope that makes some amends for my angelic city's apparent lack of hospitality. Kim, have a seat." The pairs of super-villians and teen super-heroes looked at each other and across the table, each wondering if their host was a few eggs short of a dozen.

"Now, let's have a calm, reasonable discussion. Drakken, you're here after the robotic brain research of my father, Dr. Benton Quest. I assure you, you will not find what you are looking for. But I don't expect you to believe me, and since I really don't want Ms. Go reducing my humble abode to stubble, I'll give you a free search of my house for one hour."

"Well, there is that suspicious looking locked storage closet…" said Ron.

"RON!" Kim shot a glare at him and delivered yet another two-fingered rib jab. _Ouch_!

"Ah Hah! I knew it!" Drakken stood up with a mad grin on his face.

Oddly enough, Quest seemed unperturbed. "Yes, the storage closet. Tell you what, Drakken. I'll leave it unlocked for you, but you really, really don't want to go in there. As for you, Ms. Go, Kim has warned me about what you're capable of doing, and I believe it's usually about now you and Kim go at it with an impressive kung-fu and green fireworks display. May I make a proposal? First, while Drakken is searching through my house, you two take it outside on the beach, and you, Ms. Go, turn off the green plasma blasts. In return for your not leveling my home and not causing serious injury to my friend, Kim, I'll give you my Jackson Pollock original hanging in the living room. I don't know what it's worth, but I'm sure what you can get for it is far more than what Drakken's paying you this weekend. Also, I understand that you are suffering from severe surf and sun deficiency, correct? Unless you two are intent on grinding sand into each other's orifices that I'd rather not know about, why not spend a pleasant hour sunbathing on my back deck? I'm sure you two have plenty of girl talk to catch up on. Meanwhile, I'll show Ron my sailboat."

All four guests looked stunned.

"Well, if that's agreeable to all of you," (they all shrugged, _why not_?), "Ron and I will take off now. I hope I won't be seeing you again in an hour, Drakken. You may stay as long as you like, Ms. Go."

Drakken stood up. "Come along, Shego. I'll start with the downstairs, you go upstairs…"

"Sorry, Dr. D. You heard Surfer Dude. You're on your own. The only reason I'm going upstairs is to change into something more appropriate. Well, Kimmie, do you want your skinny glutamous maximus kicked around, or would you rather have some girl talk? You could probably use some intelligent conversation, not to mention you're about as pale as a 40 watt light bulb."

"Big talk for someone with the complexion of _Aqua-Fresh _toothpaste. Beach towels are folded on the back deck."

A few minutes later, they sat on two deck chairs, placed about four feet apart—enough to be ready for any sneak attacks. Shego changed into a black two-piece bikini with bright green polka dots. Kim wore a solid coral one-piece she had bought at a beach shop the previous day. A couple of joggers passed by and tripped over a mound of seaweed.

They heard Drakken scream inside the house. "You want to check on him," asked Kim.

"Nah," said Shego, sipping her frappuccino. "After what I've been through this weekend, he deserves some misery. So, what's up with the dorkfriend? You guys like still steady-Eddies or something? Even by Middleton High School standards, you surely can't be that hard up for some kissy face action."

"His name's _Ron_, and you'll be pleased to remember that or you'll be sipping that drink through other unmentionable orifices."

"Hey Princess, lighten up! Geez, you'd think you'd be used to torment by now—I grew up with a bunch of brothers, too, you know. Does _Ron_ know about these anger issues? You better start dealing with them—cause in the meantime, I'm going to spend a glorious hour tanning and torturing you."

"Torture? You have no idea what that word even means until you've had a couple of tweebs put a live micro web-cam in your make-up mirror. Drakken would have taken over this world and a few others by now if he replaced you with Tim and Jim. Besides, I get plenty of kissy face action…and I can't believe I just said that."

Shego snorted. "So spill—not that I really want to know the love travails of kissy face boy and his skinny cheerleader girlfriend, but it's probably a lot more amusing than Dr. D's latest wacko take-over-the-world scheme. So tell me, or I power up."

"Well," Kim wasn't sure which was weirder, spilling her guts about her boyfriend to her arch enemy, or not feeling so weird about spilling guts about boyfriend to arch enemy, "we've been talking about the M Word."

"Oh please," Shego laughed, "don't tell me you two are the last ones to even say _M Word_. And then, let me guess, you're planning a future discussion of the _S Word_. And I thought Stoppable was the funny one—you should be on Comedy Central."

Kim frowned. _We were going to talk about the, um, S Word_.

Shego got herself under control. "Oh, my sides hurt. OK, I'll make it easy on you, Princess. What exactly do you see in him that'd make you even think about…the M Word?"

"He's cute."

"Maybe, in the way a naked mole rat is cute. No accounting for taste, I suppose. Go on."

"He's brave."

"Comedy Central line, Kimbo. I never knew guys could shriek till I met you two."

"He scares easily, I'll admit. But he'll do these amazing things anyway, like fighting people like you even when he knows he's seconds away from being turned into plasma toast." She got lost in her thoughts, dreamily thinking about the last time Ron rescued her…

"Earth to Kim! All right, I'll give him that one. What else?"

"He can be smart and creative."

"Are you kidding? He couldn't find his way out of a one door barn with the directions glued to his hands."

"He's smart and creative in, um, more unconventional ways." _He's weird, and I love that about him_. "You remember his evil alter-ego, Zorpox? Well, all that brilliance is still inside him, only channeled in more constructive ways when the need arises. Put him in a kitchen, for example, and he makes those guys on _Iron Chef_ look like fast food hacks."

"Right, Zorpox. That was scary. Go on."

_He's ALWAYS there when I need him—"I've got your back, KP."_ She started tearing up, recalling her mom's warning to not take Ron for granted.

"HEY, Earth to Kim, again. Whatever's going on under that red hair, don't get mooshy on me. I'm not your girlfriend."

"It's hard to explain, Shego. When he finally came around to accepting his little adopted sister…when I see him playing with her, changing her diapers, feeding her, rocking her to sleep…I just look at him and think to myself, Ron Stoppable, I want you to be the dad of my kids someday."

"Stop, now you're getting me all mooshy." Shego dabbed a wet spot forming in the corner of her dark eyes. "Anything else?"

"He can dance like John Travolta, and when he kisses me, I melt like ice cream on a sidewalk."

"Now that's what I'm talking about, sister, the hottie stuff." Shego grinned. "So let's say for sake of argument that Ron Stoppable is M Word worthy. Now for the hard question: what exactly does he see in _you_? You have to get ten points before you're M Word worthy."

"Oh." _This should be easy_. "I'm cute and pretty."

"And shallow, if that's your best shot. Labrador puppies are cute; that doesn't mean I want to wake up next to one for the rest of my life. And face it, sister, don't expect your perky little bod to stay the same when you're older. I'll give you one point."

"You would know. Let's see, I'm talented."

"In what? Jumping out of airplanes, kung-fuing baddies like me, driving your little bubble car 200 miles per hour? Let me tell you something about people like you and me, Princess. What gets our adrenaline going is the rush of speed and danger. If we were guys in an alternate universe, we'd be going at each other as Top Gun fighter pilots. Your Ron may be brave, but you really think he'll still want to save the world Kimmie style twenty years from now?"

Kim thought about yesterday's conversation with Quest… "_that kind of life gets old after awhile."_

"I'll give you another point for the 'Fear Factor' skills. You're up to two."

"I'm smart."

"You're clearly the brains of the outfit, but you've got a lot of genetics going for you there. You're up to three points."

"Um…" Kim blanked; she couldn't think of anything. _Oh my gosh, I'm not good enough for Ron!_

Shego saw Kim's panicked expression and rolled her eyes in disgust. "Oh pulleeeze. OK, I take back the point for you being the smart one. You help people for no other reason besides you're a good, decent, kind-hearted person. Ron sees that in you, and it makes him want to be a better man, just for you. You laugh and joke around together, which means you both share the same weird, demented sense of humor. He LOVES you, no matter what you look like, smell like, say, do, whatever. When did you first figure out you had the hots for Ron Boy?"

"Well, there was that moodulator incident…"

"Stop, we're not even going there. The thing is, even I guessed how you two felt about each other before you did. Another minus point for being dense, Possible. So that's one, plus two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-TEN points because this ain't no math quiz, cheerleader. You're a ten because of who you are and because Mole Rat Boy loves you anyway. Don't you get it?" By now Shego was yelling. "Earth to Kim, Hello! You're lucky to have a dork head like Stoppable, and he's lucky to get a pom-pom brain like you. You deserve each other. If you were my little sister, I'd smack you one upside your head."

"That's the nicest thing you ever said to me, Shego." Kim sniffed.

"You're welcome. But don't start getting mooshy on me again. The truce is over in another half hour."

"So what about you and your love life? Jonny gave you an open invitation. Any vibes?"

"You mean that stuck-up beach hippy, Quest? No, too boring. Drakken can be annoying, childish, arrogant, self-centered, but he's usually not boring. He's kinda like Stoppable in some ways, I suppose—they're not boring. Now shut up and let me work on my tan." _I wonder what mess Doctor D's gotten himself into?_

* * *

"…Nice boat you got here, Mr. JQ. What was the Bandit I?" 

"He was a dog I used to own. Smartest little thing you ever saw, and could cause more trouble than a porcupine in a balloon factory."

"I know whatcha mean. My buddy Rufus is like that."

"So, tell me more about your girlfriend."

"We've been best friends for like, since, kindergarten. Then she started this web site, to help people, and I kinda helped her get it going, then it snowballed. Of course, you know the gist of our missions together. Here's something I've learned about Kim over the years—never, ever, underestimate her. I know you probably think we are a couple of teenage amateurs playing James Bond. The first thing she did when we pulled up to your house was run a scan of your property. She noted the infra-red and sound surveillance cameras and had our techie connect your detection system to our communicators. We also knew the location of Drakken's rental car. There was no way they'd approach your house without us knowing. I was just shocked, seeing them stand there like that in your kitchen, but we knew they were coming."

"I'm impressed, and shouldn't be surprised. Anything else you discovered?"

"Well," Ron said sheepishly, "we also figured out you had a hidden basement with some serious computer hardware down there."

"So I gathered."

"Another thing about Kim, she's intense, like she operates on one-speed: foot to the floorboard. Once she commits to something, she can be like a micro tornado getting it done, and watch out if you get in her way. She can be a little scary sometimes, to be honest."

"And let me guess. Your job is to watch her back. You'd do anything for her, right?"

Ron simply nodded. "What about you, Jonny? Did you ever feel that way about a girl?"

"You have to understand, while you and Kim travel to some exotic locale and then go home, my home was wherever we happened to be. It was a great experience, and for what it's worth, our odd little family of sorts did love one another. Still, I grew up around a bunch of guys, and I had a hard time adjusting to the rest of the world as I got older, especially when it came to women. As Kim observed, in some ways I really am a conceited, eccentric old beach bum. I did have a fiancé once, when I was in graduate school. We got into the bad habit of assuming what we thought the other wanted to be happy, instead of just asking each other. We made each other miserable for a couple years; then we broke up. Probably the smartest thing she ever did, and the dumbest thing I ever did."

"Let's pretend you're explaining that last smart and dumb comment to my naked mole rat, Rufus."

Quest chuckled. "See, you're already a smart guy by not assuming what an old beatnik means when he starts spouting a bunch of yin yang nonsense. That's my point, Ron. Never assume, and you'll do OK. I've spent the past decade or so learning to be at peace with the choices I've made, even the dumb ones."

"So, is this leading up to something about me and Kim?"

"I rarely give advice, especially to someone like you—there's a lot more going on behind that goofy teenage persona than what most people suspect. Here's an old man's opinion. It looks to me that you and this girl have something special, the kind of thing that inspires poets. If you don't do everything you can to hold onto her, you're a damn fool."

"Yeah, I started figuring that part out several months ago."

"Like I said, you're a pretty smart guy." Quest looked at his watch. "It's time for us to head back. I'm very curious to find out what happened with Dr. Drakken." Ron noted a rather wicked and mysterious grin on Quest's face.

* * *

As soon as everyone left the house, leaving him all alone, Drakken wasted no time heading straight for the storage closet door Quest had warned him to avoid. 

"What kind of idiot does he take me for?" He pulled out a portable bio-scanner. Drakken lived in a world populated with hidden henchmen and annoying sidekicks; one couldn't be too careful. "Excellent. No bio-matter signs, not even a synthodrone. Now let's see what's behind this door."

He pulled it opened, stared in shock for a moment, and suddenly screamed, "No, why does this always happen to me?"

"Warning. Warning. Danger, Mr. Quest!" said a metallic voice that rolled out of the closet on rubber treads. A pair of arms with hooks on the end extended from a round, titanium torso. Its "head" was a flattened, circular acrylic bubble. Rows of green and yellow buttons flashed on the front of its chest.

Drakken ran towards the kitchen, the robot following close behind. In a panic, Drakken found a rolling pin and started waving it with stabbing motions to ward off the snapping claws reaching for him. _Where is Shego when I need her_? "Stay away from me, you bubble-headed booby." Drakken dashed out of the kitchen, up the stairs. Ah, safe for now. "Shego…" he was about to yell.

But at that moment, his voice was cut short by a shrill, hyper-sonic alarm in the bedroom he had escaped into. The sound waves seared through Drakken's head, momentarily blinding him in agony. "Oh, the pain…the pain of it all," he shrieked. The alarm stopped as soon as he stumbled out of the bedroom. When he moved away from the top of the stairwell, the alarm started again. It stopped as long as he kept moving towards the stairs, down step by step, through the hallway, into the kitchen, compelling him back into his chair at the kitchen table. A thoroughly defeated Dr. Drakken slowly drank the rest of his Starbucks cocoa moo.

"Technically, this isn't fair," he said out loud to himself. "He said I could look through his entire house for one hour. I should still have 30 minutes to go to find Dr. Quest's robotic brain research. I know it's somewhere in this house. And here I am, talking to an overgrown transistor radio that escaped from a '60s sci-fi show."

"That does not compute, Dr. Drakken. I am a mobile data processing unit built by Dr. Benton Quest to assist Mr. Jonny Quest, or what you would call a butler. I am capable of encoding and transmitting radio waves—Mr. Quest currently has me dialed to FM 94.7, a local jazz station—though that is not one of my primary functions. Unlike humans, it is impossible for me to be incarcerated by the visual stimulation of audio-visual entertainment. Also, Mr. Quest already told you that the information you seek does not exist inside the house. I am a robot, thus not capable of lying about such matters."

"Now he tells me."

"He already did. Furthermore…"

"Oh, shut up. I have a headache. I don't suppose you have any medicinal pain relievers?"

"Certainly, Dr. Drakken." The robot opened a cabinet, took out two bottles. "Acetaminophen or Ibuprofen, whichever you prefer. I apologize for causing undue cranial stress, but I was instructed to activate Mr. Quest's intruder control system if you opened the door to the storage closet."

"Whatever you are…"

"Mr. Quest has programmed me to respond to the nomenclature, 'Robby.'"

"Well, thank you, Robby. At least you give me a lot less sarcastic lip than a certain teenage nemesis."

"You're welcome, Dr. Drakken. May I recommend a short nap until Mr. Quest arrives back home?"

* * *

"Five minutes to go before the truce is over, Princess. As much as I'd like to veg and continue our bonding session, I suggest we get back into our work clothes, if that's what you call those things you wear." 

"Green and black leotards for the past decade, Shego? You're not exactly worrying Paris with fashion trends."

They walked into the kitchen, noticed Drakken at the table, head down, snoring. Even more bizarre was the sight of a large, six-foot robot washing and drying their breakfast plates and silverware at the sink. "Greetings, Ms. Go and Ms. Possible. Mr. Quest and Mr. Stoppable will be here soon. Please make yourselves at home while I finish up the dishes."

_OoooKaaay_, thought Kim and Shego as they looked at each other. They went to their respective changing rooms and returned in time to see Jonny Quest and Ron arrive in the kitchen just as Dr. Drakken awoke, rubbing his eyes and head.

"Drakken, I see you're still here and have met Robby," Quest said. "Find what you were looking for?" Dr. Drakken, for once, had nothing to say; he crossed his arms, pouting. "How about you, Ms. Go?"

"It's been real, Jonny, and I'd love to stay and chat with your talking garbage can. Dr. D here owes me about 71 more hours of surf and sun, but not around Kimmie kissy-facing her boyfriend. Also, thanks for the painting, but I really don't care for abstract paint blobs—I'm more into French impressionists. Don't bother offering it to these two, either; Maurice Sendak and Dr. Suess are more their style. That Jag outside, however…" Quest tossed her the keys. "Thanks. Dr. D, time to go. Later, Princess." She grabbed the blue lapels of Drakken's lab coat and dragged him outside. Shego aimed a couple of green blasts at the '62 Sloth and blew out the right front and rear tires. Seatbelt buckled, she whipped the Jaguar around the house; it roared down the beach.

"C'mon, Ron."

"Kim, you can let the police handle this," said Quest.

"Only if you want L.A.'s finest reduced to tiny plasma puddles. Let me and Ron handle this sitch."

"Don't worry, Mr. JQ," said Ron. "We'll have those badical wheels back in no time. It's what we do."

They ran to the Sloth. "Awww, man," Ron whined when he saw the tires.

"No big, Ron. Get in." Kim opened a console on the steering wheel. "Hmmm, let's see. Here it is: Dune Buggy Mode." She punched in the code, and the tires automatically popped off and were replaced by four others, the two in the back inflating into somewhat larger racing dune treads. The back suspension raised about 6 inches. She followed the tracks of the Jaguar and was soon gaining on it. She tapped her wrist communicator: "Hey Wade, you know what to do."

"We're ready for them, Kim. Good luck."

"Shego, they're gaining on us. What were you thinking," Drakken yelled as they dodged around volley ball nets and life guard posts.

"I've always wanted to see what it was like racing a hottie sports car on a beach. It seemed like a good idea at the time," Shego said as the lilac dune Sloth got bigger in her rear view mirror.

When the Sloth was about 10 feet behind the black muscle car, Kim tapped another quick code into the console. A pair of gold electromagnetic rings emerged next to Ron. Ron looked nervously at Kim; this time, she smiled back at him. "Your turn," she yelled. "I'll pull up beside Shego, and all you have to do is jump onto the back; the rings will help you stay on the car. Climb towards Drakken and Shego, and…"

"Yeah, I know the routine. I'm the distraction."

She clamped her hand on Ron's for a second and gave him a quick glance. "No, Ron. You're my _partner_. Now go!"

Kim maneuvered the Sloth next to the Jaguar to keep it steadily straight for a moment. Ron, heart pounding, jumped onto the Jaguar. Shego turned the wheels into a wicked turn, gauging a circle into the wet beach sand. Ron yelled, "help, KP," but the rings kept him glued to the car. He worked his way to the front and began yelling, thumping the front seats, and dodging Drakken's hands which reached behind to grab him. Through years of practice, Ron had raised distraction to an art form. Shego grew more and more exasperated and furious.

Kim floorboarded the Sloth and angled in front of the Jaguar, causing it to spin out and stop to avoid hitting the Sloth. She quickly backed up to Shego's side in some loose sand, and started revving the back tires. A cloud of sand descended on Shego and Drakken. "My eyes! And my hair!" sputtered Shego. "You're going to pay…" She gagged as wet sand smacked into her mouth. Drakken was in only slightly better shape, cursing to himself for being foiled again by Team Possible.

Shego and Drakken opened their car doors, clambered out, looking like a pair of wet green and blue towels that had been dragged through a sandbox. As they wiped the dirt from their eyes, they saw a dozen agents in Global Justice uniforms surround the car and lock handcuffs around their wrists. They were herded into a black GJ transport van. "You think you're all that, Kim Possible…" Drakken started to say. "Oh, shut up," muttered Shego. She figured it would take her about an hour for her to escape, but getting all the sand out of her thick raven mane…_Grrr_.


	4. Sunday Evening

CHAPTER FOUR

"SUNDAY EVENING"

"…Sorry about the mess in the Jag, Mr. JQ" said Ron.

"Nothing a vacuum and shampoo can't handle. As Kim says, 'no big.' I'm glad neither of you were hurt."

"When were you going to tell us about Robby," asked Kim. The older man and two teens were seated around the table again. Robby was serving sandwiches.

"My father had a strange sense of humor. When I left 'home' to be on my own, Dr. Quest felt I still needed some living assistance as well as some protection. So he built this robot modeled after a silly sci-fi show I used to watch. Also, just between you and me, Robby stores all my father's old research—including his bio-robotic brain project." Their eyes opened wide. "I'm sorry for misleading you. Technically, I told you the truth—all the research my father considered potentially dangerous was destroyed; no one would ever find any record of it in the house. But he stored micro-file copies inside a secret compartment in Robby, perhaps in the hope that someday humans would stop developing and using technology to kill themselves. I didn't find out until after he died several years ago. If someone were to disable Robby with the intent of searching for something, he has internal self-destruct mechanisms that would render him into a smoking shell."

"But Jonny, just think of the good Dr. Quest's research could do," said Kim.

"And think of the harm that has already been created by people like the Lipsky family when they've stolen Dr. Possible's research—yes, I know who is who. Have the scales tipped back towards the benefit of the planet yet? Until the hearts of humanity change, Kim, don't expect technology to bail us out of the messes we create."

Kim was not quite convinced but decided to drop the issue. "We didn't mean to be nosy, but as Ron may have told you, we found about your secret computer room downstairs."

"I may be a cynic, but I'm not naïve. I'm responsible for my father's legacy, and as long as there are still old enemies around that he accrued over the years, and now new ones like Drew Lipsky, I keep an eye out on what's happening around the world. Plus I can get access to the Disney and Discovery channels when I want a rare TV fix. I might hire your Wade Load for some consulting work, though."

"Speaking of Wade," Kim said, "he's arranged for us to fly back to Middleton in a few hours. We still have school tomorrow and homework to finish tonight. It has been very interesting meeting you, Mr. Quest. I hope we can meet again someday." Kim signaled to Ron that it was time to leave.

"Likewise, Ms. Possible. Before you go, I have something for you." He gave a disk to Kim and a house key to Ron. "That is a CD copy of one of my favorite jazz albums, _Provocative Percussion_. I thought you might enjoy it." Kim and Ron blushed. "And Ron, whenever you two feel like you need a break from saving the world, or get an urge to visit Mouse Land just down the road—though I prefer Knott's Berry Farm myself—or if you'd like a post-M Word getaway, you are always welcome here. Maybe the next time you visit, you'll need only one of the guest bedrooms." They turned an even deeper shade of red.

* * *

Kim parked the Sloth in the Stoppable's driveway. They were quiet, feeling somewhat shy around each other. 

"So, what did you and Shego talk about, KP?"

"Nothing much, the latest on villain and superhero fashions, that sort of thing. What about you and Jonny?"

"Boats, cars, you know, guy stuff. Well, I still have two pages of Barkin's report to finish before tomorrow."

"Same here. See you in the morning." "Ron…" She gave him a warm kiss and a tight hug before he left the car.

"Owww! Watch the ribs, KP." He grinned. "See ya tomorrow."

Kim watched him as he opened the front door. She saw a toddler with dark black hair and a naked mole rat perched on her shoulder jump into his arms, squealing "Bubba, Bubba!" Kim smiled.

Kim returned home, finished Barkin's assignment, and wrote in her diary. Dr. Anne Possible saw the light in Kim's room. "How was your weekend, honey?"

"Fine, Mom."

"Well, don't stay up too late. Good night."

"I won't. Good night, Mom. Love you."

Kim wrote for several more minutes, then typed the last two words of her diary entry: "Mission: Accomplished!"

She crawled under her covers, hugging her pandaroo, and dreamed of Rufus humming Wagner.


	5. Author Comments

Warning: Author's Notes

Dear Readers,

All characters of the _Kim Possible_ show are the property of Disney, Inc., and I presume the character Jonny Quest still belongs to Hanna-Barbera.

One of my goals is to offer another spin on the Kim/Ron story that explores some of the emotional and psychological dimensions of their evolving relationship, yet do so in a way that is consistent within the implied boundaries of the cartoon series. The idea for this story began with a quote I remember reading years ago: "the guy starts thinking about in the fall what the girl has been planning all summer long."

This was a challenging story to write. I started on something more epic and darker in scale, but it just wasn't going anywhere. But I liked pieces of what I had already written, mainly the M Word scene in the opening chapter. I started over with a different set of villains and a new narrative that more naturally wrapped itself around the M Word theme. It turned into my homage to the late 50's and 60's. I tried to imagine what a middle-aged Jonny Quest might be like, given his unusual boyhood. And the potential interplay between the Kim-Ron-Shego-Drakken offered much richer plot possibilities than my original pair, the Director twins. Hope you like the results.

I have spent some time in Southern California and tried to add enough details to give the story a sense of authenticity. Details can be a pain, though. For example, Jonny Quest's original vehicle in the story was the classic 60's era Corvette Sting Ray. After much mechanical and grammatical sweeping and dusting, it suddenly dawned on me that Ron's electromagnetic rings wouldn't work too well on a Corvette—Corvette fans will know why. Argh! Hence, there was a last minute switch to a Jaguar E-Type. But then that meant Ron couldn't climb into the back seat, because Jaguar E-Types didn't _have_ backseats. More Argh! Ultimately, I fall back on a writing maxim of the western writer, Elmer Kelton, who adeptly uses history as a backdrop for his novels, but who also wrote that a fiction writer should never let a fact get in the way of a good story.

One final comment, for the past few holidays, I've been searching for old recordings of often out-of-print albums that I grew up with and giving them to my parents as Christmas gifts, including Flatt and Scruggs at Carnegie Hall, The Johnny Mann Singers Christmas album (still my favorite holiday music), and of course, Provocative Percussion. As Ron noted, it is rather cheesy lounge music. But as Kim discovered, it's also sexy and fun. Great stuff.

Enjoy.

The Lady Rhetorica

PS: Thank you, J. K. Rowling, for your beautifully written universe about the boy who lived.


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